


beneath cherry blossoms

by serulean



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game), enstars
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Established Relationship, Gen, I....LOVE.....THEM.....A LOT......, M/M, Recreational Drinking, Slice of Life, if u like squint hard enough theres char meta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-02 22:22:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11518698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serulean/pseuds/serulean
Summary: It is all of them growing up. It is all of them aged by time and years and experiences, but when they laugh together and unpack their bentos and stories under the cherry blossoms, it’s as if they’re fifteen and seventeen once more.





	beneath cherry blossoms

**Author's Note:**

> supposed to be drabble for the writing prompt “things you said at 1am” but… turned into something else bc i caught Feelings™ c':
> 
> ([music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xEeFrLSkMm8)/inspired by: [spring day](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cMqmnhgNLXY))

 

★彡

 

The song ends with the last strum of guitar chords and Midori’s voice, meadow-thick and soft, fades out into the distance, melting away into the night. A clatter of applause from the picnic-crowd welcomes him, after. He mumbles a low, “Thank you.”

 

Untouched by the midnight spring’s chill, Chiaki cheers in ways only he can do: hollering and hooting, “Encore! Encore! Takamine, you’ve certainly improved! Your song moved my heart and brought me to tears!”

 

Midori’s reply is still a touch tired, “Will you please shut up?” But it is full of warmth when he says, “Senpai.”

 

_Some things never change._

 

Midori hands the microphone to Tetora who takes it with an exchange of manly fistbump.

 

“Um. Mic test, mic test. Ah, ah. Taichou, please shut up, you’re embarrassing!” Tetora clears his throat and eyes the crowd, full of elderly and half-drunk people all smiling. He beams back the same shape of a smile. “I, Nagumo Tetora, shall perform a comedy skit specially prepared just for today! But first, let’s welcome my partner.”

 

In lithe steps, Shinobu moves beside Tetora, shyly scratches his face out of habit and flashes a bright grin. “I, Sengoku Shinobu, shall aid Tetora-kun for tonight. It is an honor to perform for all of you. Please enjoy!”

 

Chiaki is autumn bursts and forest fires, all on his own. So, _so_ alive. Pulses and nerves and the need to let it all out through big movements and loud noises. Slapping his thighs in excitement, he begins to shout once again when something hits him on the head. No, it’s—it’s a _chop_. Hard and lethal. Did he just hear something crack?

 

“Chiaki should ‘shush,’ you are louder than the ‘mic.’” Kanata hands Chiaki a sake cup and pours him a drink. “You should ‘glug glug’ this instead. Here~”

 

Warily, Chiaki eyes the cup and takes it. Swirls the sake in it and looks at Kanata, at length. “You know I’m bad at drinking, right?”

 

Kanata hugs the sake bottle in the crook of his neck. His eyes are half-moons; a smile long-felt and genuine when he teases, “Hehe, Chiaki is such a ‘lightweight,’ like a ‘baby.’” 

 

“Y-you…” Chiaki starts but gives up and shoulder-bumps Kanata instead.

 

“Ow, Chiaki…” Kanata gently strokes his arm. “You are so ‘rough,’ my scales will ‘fall’ off.”

 

“Hahahaha! That’s for teasing me!”

 

Kanata pouts. “Mean.” And Chiaki laughs louder, like the earth’s last burst before winter falls.

 

“How did you even sneak that here? I checked the things you packed. Thrice!” Chiaki’s careful not to have a repeat of last year: Kanata bringing a goldfish bowl to their hanami with three living, breathing sea-creatures in it. _You see, I want to ‘share’ the beauty of the ‘land’ with my ‘friends,’_ Kanata explained. As if that’s okay, fine, accepted. As if people just bring goldfish bowls to a flower viewing. But Chiaki did understand the notion of sharing things with your beloved friends and comrades, so with that, he spared Kanata the lecture.

 

(And with Chiaki, lectures are more of a pat on the back, a ruffle on the head and a warning full of tenderness.)

 

“Chiaki must not ‘underestimate’ me or else, you will be ‘surprised’ like this.” Kanata looks up. His face catches the silvers of moonlight, outlining his features like a heavenly thing. Gossamer-soft and—Chiaki swoons a little, _just a little_ , he thinks, he’s not sure because—beautiful. Kanata looks every bit like he belongs here with the flowers at night, exactly in this moment. Chiaki’s breath hitches. Maybe this is what Midori’s song means when it whispers moonstruck. 

 

Chiaki continues swirling the sake in his cup, catching reflections on its pale surface. Finally, he drinks it in one big gulp. “I’ve never underestimated you.” His hand reaches out and easily, naturally, like they were born for stolen seconds like this, their fingertips are brushing. Tracing each other’s calluses, hearts both humming. “And you always surprise me. Every day.”

 

“I am very ‘happy,’ then.” Kanata tilts his head and smiles at him.

 

 _Yes_ , Chiaki thinks. _Definitely moonstruck._  

 

“Can you, um…” Midori talks with a closed fist over his mouth, while averting his gaze. An old habit. “Can you please not act like I’m not here? This is depressing.” He sighs, deeply.

 

_Some things never really change._

 

“Do not ‘worry’ Midori, I have enough here for you too. Look.” Kanata starts pouring Midori a cup. “I have enough for ‘everyone’ so drink! ‘Glug glug.’” He looks pleased.

 

“Ugh…” Midori grumbles.

 

“Don’t be like that Takamine! You should enjoy the night so you can welcome the morning with a big smile. C’mon!” Chiaki laughs again, fist on the heart and eyes bright. “But hm, we shouldn’t really drink so much, okay? We’ve still got a schedule in the afternoon and…”

 

Kanata pats Chiaki’s head. “You are a ‘good’ boy, Chiaki. Just one ‘cup’ and your face is already so ‘red.’ It is just like your ‘color,’ isn’t it?” He brushes off a petal tangled in Chiaki’s hair. “But I ‘like’ it better when you are ‘red’ because we—”

 

“K-K-Kanata!!!” Chiaki sputters, suddenly. “You!!! You can't say that here!”

 

“Taichou, please be quiet!” The children— _no_ , they are not kids anymore, are they?—snaps in unison at him.

 

“Yes~ just like that kind of ‘red,’ Chiaki.” Kanata laughs. Its sound is a windsong and Chiaki’s chest swells with the need to take it all in.

 

_Well, maybe, some things did change._

 

For instance: they used to hold hanami in the nearby park, securing a spot in the early morning and celebrating in the afternoon when it is all bright and warm. Eating bentos and sharing stories, until sunset. Now, they hold it only at late night when their schedules are free and people are less likely to notice that idols have blended in with the crowd.

 

(And hanami nights have a way of making everyone feel like everything is a fleeting dream.)

 

So they unpack their bentos and stories under the yozakura—cherry blossoms at night—and let the crimson glow of the paper lanterns light up the edges of the dark.

 

For instance: it is all of them.

 

It is Midori: infinitely growing, believing in himself and his place. Tracing his own shape and finding his own dreams etched at the heart of it, despite the tall shadows that have always made him think there was only emptiness within it before. It is him no longer running away from reality and, slowly, gently, bravely, moving forward. Learning to play the guitar and discovering his own voice through creating songs. Songs that reached, touched and inspired the hearts of people who share the same feelings as him. Songs that became someone’s hope to live.

  
It is Shinobu: a miracle shining in the darkness, braver and brighter, flooding people with hope. Cropping his hair shorter, losing all the stutters and looking directly into someone’s eyes when he speaks, like he puts his entire faith and soul in every word he says. It is him finding belonging in all things that made him alone, once upon a time. It is him persisting, enduring and persevering, knowing now that being different doesn’t make your world small. It is through these differences that he’s able to stir other people’s heart. After all, accepting who you are is the greatest kind of courage.

 

It is Tetora: shining in his own color, no longer hollow and chasing. He’s still fiery and honest, but no longer an uncontrollable wildfire razing everything in his path. His flame has kindled into something gentler, warmer—more patient and understanding, able to empathize with other people's hearts. It is him standing next to Kuro and Chiaki, all of them equals learning from one another. He is taller, stockier and manlier. But when he smiles, there is still the same boyish curve of innocence, of a thing with feathers, but now great enough to be someone who can hold the sun in the palm of his hands.

 

It is Kanata: still a mystery but no longer someone unsolved and misunderstood. Not someone distant and untouchable. Not a Living God or an heir of a respected household, just a boy who wanted to chase for his own form of happiness, someone who dreamt of being able to hold hands with everyone and laugh together. It is him learning that the sea—his home—is never too far. It can be scattered and found within all the ones he loves. So when he sees them again, it’s always like a warm embrace and a familiar welcome home. That home can also be a smile, a laugh, and a touch from people whose dreams he wanted to fulfill.

 

It is Chiaki: burning bright red like the sun, still admiring and dreaming and wishing but now, he lets himself hear what he couldn’t believed in before—the truth in full bloom upon him. He has _always_ been a _hero_. It is him learning to be kinder to himself, letting his weaknesses and mistakes be part of all the things that make him strong. Being a hero is a part of life, a choice he continuously makes. It is something he engraves in his heart and lives by every day, without any end goals or finish lines. But smiles and happiness are a form of happy ending, too. It is him running faster and faster with the world up ahead, his arms widespread, ready to take it all in. To be more, to do more, to give more. And he’s not alone when he does it.

 

It is Ryuseitai together outside the walls of Yumenosaki. Firelights and shooting stars. Peace and justice. Smiles made from wishes and hopes.

 

It is them on the deck of a cruise ship, somewhere in the middle of the seas in Kanazawa. Chiaki toasting against the wild winds: “To us! To our dreams! To our future!”

 

And all of them clinking their glasses. “The five of us together! To Ryuseitai!” It is them learning that everyone is a lightweight drinker except for Midori and Kanata, after.

 

It is all of them growing up. It is all of them aged by time and years and experiences, but when they laugh together and unpack their bentos and stories under the cherry blossoms, it’s as if they’re fifteen and seventeen once more. On the precipice of youth and adulthood. At the cusp of their budding dreams and the family they found in each other.

 

Tetora and Shinobu’s comedy skit ends and they bow in a smooth ninety-degree. Everyone claps their hands in unmeasured contentment, bliss and happiness. The old grandmas are cooing, “Aw, what good boys!” The nearby drunk uncles are yelling, “Banzai! Banzai! Banzai!”

 

The night is thrumming with the electric spark of life. People are shouting, singing and laughing merrily.

 

Time is moving, _alive_. Something they can’t keep folded and tucked away in their pockets or captured in a bottle meant to be frozen in a certain way, at a certain moment forever. Just like the blinking, short life of the flowers around them. They don’t have the power over it, not even the strongest heroes in Chiaki’s long list of beloved tokusatsu shows do. But it is _theirs_ —this night, this instant, these seconds that continue to tick by. _All theirs._ This is how they carry the world and their hearts. This is how they go on, grow and move forward. In the little moments that aren’t so little.

 

Chiaki checks the time from his phone: 1am. His lockscreen is a backstage group photo from Ryuseitai’s Repayment Festival performance. Each one of them is sweaty and smiling, all firelights and shooting stars. _Ah, it feels just like yesterday!_

 

They are sitting together in their small picnic mat. Tetora is snapping lots of pictures, from the cherry blossoms to their overflowing food to candid shots of them (Chiaki's embarrassing moments, most of all). Before Midori can escape, Tetora is pulling him by the arm, asking for a selfie together. Midori’s smile is stretched forcedly across his face but his eyes are crinkled. Kanata is feeding Shinobu an assortment of seafood drenched with soy sauce while Shinobu doesn’t have the heart to say no when Kanata is smiling like that, like the kind of smile he only gives off, back then, when he’s near the water.

 

Chiaki looks at all of them, lighthearted and alive alive alive.

 

“Hahaha, I'm so happy with all of you tonight!” Chiaki cheers, feeling brave and invincible. He raises his cup in the air. “Let’s do this again next spring!!”

 

“Do you even need to say that, Taichou? Of course! And the year after that, ossu!” Tetora replies back, lifting his own cup.

 

“The next more years too, if you may!” Shinobu inclines, eyes are shining and even more youthful.

 

They all look at Midori, expectantly, cornering him into a moment of honesty. He gives in and sighs. “The year after that, too… I guess.” There’s a smile etched on his face when everyone turns away.

 

“Next year and the next year and then ‘forever’ and ‘ever’ until there are ‘sakura’ that ‘blooms’ in the ‘land.’” Kanata puka puka’s, raising the entire sake bottle.

 

They toast together. It is a promise. A vow.

 

The cherry blossoms fall like a rain of stars. Blown upwards once again by the wind, like paper airplanes carrying their hearts to the sky—to the future.

 

_forever and ever._

★彡

 

 

“This is bad. They’re all drunk. I just want to go home.” Midori sighs, shaking his head. “Kanata-senpai, what should we do?”

 

“Ahhh~ The world is ‘spinning.’ There are many Midori. One Midori. Two Midori. Three, four, fifty five, so many. I’m ‘dizzy.’ Mm, I’m sooo~ drunk so I’m going to ‘faint’ now, kerflop.”

 

“Senpai,” Midori whines. “You don’t get drunk. Don’t pretend to be drunk when it’s convenient. Please help me, senpai. Senpai? Senpaaaiiiii.”

 

“Zzzzz….puka.”

 

-

**Author's Note:**

> title from kobayashi issa's poem “What a strange thing! To be alive beneath cherry blossoms.”
> 
> inspired a lot by bts bon voyage ahaha ;v; and song writer midori may be far-fetched but pls imagine!!! (let me dream)
> 
> (edit: 8/29/18) i added some tiny tiny tiny details at the "changed" part of this fic, as i wanted it to reflect some themes that were added in the new events! nothing was changed in this story tho I PROMISE! I JUST COULDNT HELP BUT LIKE ADD MORE DETAILS HEHE........YEAH..........MY H E A R T WENT WOOSH sry,
> 
> thanks for reading!!! ★
> 
> [twit](http://twitter.com/iittlewitch)


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